


Kid

by SleepingReader



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dreams, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 05:56:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14129547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepingReader/pseuds/SleepingReader
Summary: Between the twelfth and thirteenth hourMake sure you don’t awakenThe bells come from the towerAnd you just might be taken





	Kid

‘Sweetheart, time for bed!’  
The Child looked up from their video game. They didn’t want to go to bed yet.  
‘Five more minutes!’  
‘No, honey! Bedtime!’  
Fine. Fine. Maybe Mom would let them play before school. The child stood up, and went to the bathroom to brush their teeth. They picked up a stool to reach the high sink and the mirror. The Child smiled. Gaps in their teeth where teeth had fallen out, or had been pulled out by themselves. (Or in one particular memorable occasion: by their sister and her toy helicopter.)  
Curly brown hair that fell low on their forehead, almost obscuring their eyes. Light-brown skin and a flattish nose. A pointy chin.

Kids at school often called the Child ‘Peter Pan’. But the Child knew that Peter Pan was a boy. And The Child wasn’t. The Child didn’t want to be Wendy, either. They weren’t a Wendy. They were…  
They were.

The Child vaguely noticed that they had to have a name somewhere. But there wasn’t any name given to them yet. Mom and Mum didn’t seem too upset about this. The name that the Child had been given when they were born… Well, it fit just about as much as ‘Wendy’ would. Their mothers knew that. And they knew it was Okay.

The Child crawled into bed. The blankets were soft, and patterned with flowers. They looked at the posters around the room. Disney films, that one baseball game, princesses, pirates. It was a nice room, and the twinkly fairy lights made everything even better. Especially when Mum turned them on and they lit up the glittering rocks in the pretty glass case. The Child loved those rocks.  
A story was told, about a boy who ran away to the sea. Kisses were given, and the twinkly night-lights were lit. The Child snuggled in to the covers. They were asleep quickly, especially because of the aniseed milk they had early in the evening.

 

 _Between the twelfth and thirteenth hour_  
_Make sure you don’t awaken_  
_The bells come from the tower_  
_And you just might be taken_

 

The clock struck twelve:  
_BONG_  
_BONG_  
_BONG_  
_BONG_  
_BONG_  
_BONG_  
_BONG_  
_BONG_  
_BONG_  
_BONG_  
_BONG_  
_BONG_

_….bong…_

The Child opened one eye and sat up in bed.  
Was that a thirteenth _bong_? It had been a shy _bong _, but a _bong_ nonetheless. __

Underneath the bed, something dark stirred and swore softly. It started snuffling, softly scribbling on the floor. Oh goodie. Shit. The Child was awake. Now what? The Thing Underneath The Bed took out a small book, and widened its pupils to look at it better. Ah, okay. A checklist. Good. It liked checklists.   
1) Is the Window Open? (Yes)  
2) If Window is Closed, nothing to worry about. (Shit)  
3) If Window is Open, Reveal Yourself. (Wait, what?)  
4) Protect Child (Fine, fine.)

The Child sat up straighter in bed. They had heard the swearing. The snuffling. The scribbling. And… the turning of pages?  
Before the Thing Underneath The Bed had any chance to Reveal itself, a curly head popped down from above.  
‘’Ello!’ It yelled.  
The Thing yelped and hit its head on the bed.  
‘Aa!’  
‘I have a Mum, you know.’ The Child said wisely.  
‘Ow…’ the Thing said, rubbing its head. ‘Yah. I know you have a Mum.’ Its voice was slow and growly, and vaguely accented.  
‘My Mum will kick your butt.’ The Child said, with all the conviction of an six-year-old.  
‘Yah. She would.’ The Thing said. Of course she would. Mums did that sort of thing.  
‘Are you gonna eat me up?’ The Child asked. It was not a scared question, it was more as if it was checking the facts.  
‘Nah.’ The Thing said. ‘I only eat Dust Bunnies.’  
The Child nodded. ‘I knew that.’ They said.  
‘Sure ya did, kid.’

Then, The Thing Underneath The Bed cocked an ear. It crawled from underneath the bed and walked over to the open window. It looked a bit like the neighbours scary dog. But it stood on its hind legs, was completely black and… didn’t seem like a dog at all. It was as if someone took the idea of a large mean husky-wolf hybrid, and then explained it (through interpretative dance) to a person who had never seen a husky before.  
And who only worked in black. (Like a really dumb Batman, the Child thought.)

The Thing stuck its head out of the window and sniffed. The late summer air drifted into its nostrils. Peaches, salt, sweat (ugh), cherries, sand, suncream… But also something metallic. Shit.  
‘Okay, kid. We have time for three questions, then I’m taking ya somewhere safe.’  
The Child nodded. This seemed normal to them.

‘What’s your name?’ The Child asked. They were always curious to other peoples names, since they had none.   
‘Qwerty.’ Said the Thing Not Underneath The Bed Anymore.  
‘What are you?’  
‘I’m a Dreamon. Uh... a dream-demon. Your dream-demon.’  
‘How did you get under my bed?’  
‘Good question, kid.’ Qwerty the Dreams said. He spoke fast: ‘Alright, between the twelfth and thirteenth hour, we're awake so you humans don’t have to be. You all have one of us. Normal, we feed on your dust bunnies, and you get the dreams you need. Not the ones you want, mind, but the ones you need to know stuff. Or something. I dunno.’ Qwerty said, scratching an ear with a back leg.  
The Child nodded, and Qwerty the Dreamon was glad that his charge was a child, not an adult, or Frips forbid, a teenager.

In the distance, things that normally went BONG now went clicka-clicka-click as tiny little legs unfolded from underneath the bells in the clock tower and started swiftly scuttling over the rooftops to the house of the Child. Qwerty heard them coming. His ears twitched. His eyes widened.

‘Aight, we gotta get going.’ He told the child, taking their hand. ‘Gonna stay away from them Bells.’   
‘The bells?’  
‘Capital letter B, kid. Bells. No more questions.’  
‘Can I bring Teddy?’  
‘…Yah. Sure you can.’  
Together, they crawled underneath the Child’s bed. Qwerty held the Child’s hand, who held the hand of their Teddy.  
Soon, the Child found that they were… sliding through the floor, as that horsey had done in the movie with the turtle and the dragon. They panicked a little, but seeing as both Qwerty and Teddy were okay with the whole thing, so the Child didn’t worry too much.

They landed with a soft flop. Qwerty looked around and sniffed. No metallics. Not yet. Good. Confuse the bastards.  
‘Can I ask more questions now?’ The Child asked. Qwerty sighed and rubbed his eyes.  
‘The Bells are the bells from the clocktower. If you’re up between twelve and thirteen, they can take you to become the new hands of the clock. How else do you think they keep it strung?’ Qwerty told the child, picking them up and pulling them along.

As they walked, the Child looked around at Qwerty’s world. It was mostly done in black and dark grey, though the snow on the ground was white and very soft. It was also decidedly Not Cold. The Child was able to grab a handful and press it together into a ball. It was lukewarm, and didn’t melt.  
They threw it at Qwerty. It hit Qwerty in the ear, causing him to shake his head fitfully.  
‘Hey. No snowy-ing!’ Qwerty said, pushing a pawful of snow into the Child’s face. The Child giggled, and the two chased each other for a while, hands and paws full of snow. Teddy almost got lost, but was found quickly thanks to Qwerty’s nose.

‘How do we get back home?’ The Child asked. They were six (and a half), but all kids can miss their Moms and Mums.   
‘We gotta get a weapon and get to the Clock on Thisside, go through, and then I’ll kick the bell’s butts on Thatside while you fall asleep again.’ Qwerty explained.  
‘Couldn’t you kick their butts in my bedroom?’  
‘Ain’t got a weapon, kid.’  
‘Okay.’ The Child said, and the two (three if you count Teddy, which we will) walked on.

After a while, the Child’s legs got tired, and their Dreamon carried them for a while. The rooftops of Thisside were a dark grey, with plumes of black smoke coming out against an even blacker sky. Every now and then, a silver coloured sheet o _f water _glingleglingleglingle__ -ed through the air and landed in one of the chimneys. This was the world of dreams, and the way dreams got from one place to the other. Every chimney was a Sleeper’s brain, Qwerty told the Child.  
The Child tried to look inside one, but Qwerty told them off.  
‘Not your dreams, kid. Focus on your own dreams.’

 _I_ n the distance, they saw the Clock Tower. Only it looked weird. For one, it was upside down. It also had no hands. Instead, it had feet.   
‘Did you really think they’d only want your hands?’ Qwerty told the Child darkly, when they laughed and asked about the feet.  
Below the Clock Tower was a large field, a meter deep in snow.  
‘Alright, kid. Make me a weapon.’ Qwerty told the Child, putting them down in the snow.  
‘Any weapon?’  
‘Yah. Any weapon. Just make it from the snow.’

To Qwerty’s relief, the Child didn’t ask more questions. They just sat in the snow and started claying.   
Within fifteen minutes, Qwerty was equipped with…  
‘Is this a tennis racket?’  
’Nooo!’ The child yelled, and their voice echoed through the chimney-world. ‘It’s a bug-zapper.’  
‘But I’m not gonna fight bugs, are I?’  
‘No, you’re fighting bells. So it’s a bell-zapper. Duh.’  
Qwerty sighed again and rolled his eyes. This was a stupid time for the kid to acquire sass.  
‘Fine. Fine.’  
‘D’you need a helmet?’ The Child asked, holding up…  
‘That is a bowl.’  
‘Hel-met!’ The Child sing-songed. Qwerty put it on, feeling very sorry for himself. Why, in Frips name, couldn’t he have gotten an adult or a teenager?

‘D’you need a shield?’   
‘Sure kid, gimme a shield.’ Qwerty said, defeated. He was surprised to find himself with nothing other than a very proper shield.  
’This is… a shield.’ Qwerty said, frowning down at The Child.  
‘Yeah! Captain America’s shield. It’s a good shield!’ The Child said, stroking said shield.  
Qwerty agreed. It was a good shield. Even if it was in grayscale. The only things bright in that world was the Child’s light-brown skin, their dark brown curls, their blue pyjamas and their orange teddy.  
Qwerty squared his shoulders, and together, the odd trio made of Child, Dreamon and Teddy made their way to the tower.

A silver-coloured sheet of water made sure that the weathervane at the bottom of the tower turned away from them as they passed. Qwerty sniffed at the Dream.  
‘Thank Frips you’re here.’ He told it. ‘Your kid needs you.’  
The Dream just glingle-d happily at him and the Child. The Child reached out and tried to touch the Dream, but it shied away a little.   
‘Not yet.’ Qwerty told them. ‘When we’re on Thatside.’  
Qwerty lifted the Child up, up, up, onto his broad shoulders. The Child banged a little on the bowl atop the Dreamons head.  
‘Hey! Don’t do that! Ears!’  
’S’rry’ the Child muttered.  
Underneath Qwerty’s feet, the Dream started to lift them up, slowly… slowly…

The Upside Down clock of Thisside had a large pendulum that swung back and forth, back and forth, only upside down. The Child guessed it swung Forth and Back and Forth and Back instead. To get to Thatside, they had to pass through the clock.  
The Child closed their eyes and buried their face into the soft darkness of Qwerty’s neck.  
They, Qwerty, Teddy, and the Child’s Dream passed through the clock, though the pendulum nicked a few bits of blackness off Qwerty’s tail as it swung Forth again.

On Thatside again, Qwerty let the Child off. The colours were back in the world. Sadly enough, the bells were, too.  
‘Follow your dream, kid. I’ll handle this…’ he said, patting the kid on their head. Then, baring his teeth, Qwerty turned on his bell-zapper.  
And as the Child followed his Dream back into their home, Qwerty stood and faced Hell’s Bells alone.  
They rung with glee at having a Dreamon in their midst. Qwerty growled at them.  
He swung his bell-zapper at the first to scuttle towards him. It went down with a satisfying Zzza-CLUNK. He caught the next one on the edge of his shield. That ones legs fell off. Qwerty grinned. This was going to be fun  
That was one good Child that he had found.

The Dream kept its Child’s attention on them as the first explosion sounded. If one of them had taken a glance at the clock, they could have seen that it was 25:55 at night, five minutes before one. Qwerty didn’t need to fight long. Just long enough.

Ever so gently, the Dream slipped the Child and their Teddy through their open window. The Dream landed on Teddy for a moment, while the Child walked over to the main bedroom. They knocked on the door.  
‘Mom? Mum?’  
Both of their mothers were asleep, the one’s hair tickling the others nose as they lay side by side. The Child crawled in between. The Dream came off from the teddy bear, and lay gently over the Child’s eyes.

‘To sleep, to nap, to slumber, to nod, to snooze, to re-sssshhtt…’ it whispered.   
And the Child smiled.  
And the Child slept.  
And the Child dreamt.  
The Child dreamt of a name.  
It was a good name.

The clock struck one.

A dream-demon named Qwerty crawled into an open window.   
He crawled under his Child’s bed. He licked a scratch until it was black again.  
He shook shield-shaped snow from his paws.  
He shook bowl-shaped snow from his fur.  
Qwerty smiled.  
Qwerty slept.  
Qwerty dreamt.  
Qwerty dreamt of a name for his Child.  
It was a good name.

**Author's Note:**

> To Mike and Argón. Thank you for the picture!!


End file.
